Little Stolen Moments
by Opal Eyed
Summary: What I imagine goes on in little private moments between Carol Peletier and Daryl Dixon. Beginning around the start of season 4.1, and eventually ending around the mid season finale. There will be a few chapters, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

Stolen Moments

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Disclaimer: I'm in no way affiliated with AMC, The Walking Dead, nor any characters created by them.  
I just like to play with them, free of charge.

{This is meant to be little off screen private moments between Carol Peletier and Daryl Dixon,  
starting around the first episode of the fourth season, possibly a few days/weeks before, and leading up to the  
inevitable shit storm that was the mid season finale. Just little bits and pieces of what people don't usually  
see of them, especially since Daryl rarely opens up to anyone but Carol. Enjoy, and review :D}

1

Carol was finished with her part of the dinner kitchenn duties, for the moment, and was carrying a plate for  
Daryl, as usual. Only she couldn't seem to find him. She was betting he'd decided to hide out from his new fan club.  
He always had preferred solitude to crowds, given the choice. On a whim, she checked the cell they now shared as bunk mates.  
As she rounded the corner of their doorway, she saw his booted feet crossed and hanging off the end of the bottom bunk.  
With a knowing smirk, she positioned herself in the doorway, leaning against the wall, before speaking.

"Couldn't take all those adoring looks and compliments for another minute, huh?"

He snorted with a grin, and she sat on the stool across from the bed, while he sat up and faced her before accepting the  
plate of food.

"Dunno what all the fuss is about, " he drawled nonchalantly. "I ain't nothin' special. Just good for one thing."

Carol clasped her hands together, and leaned forward, elbows on her knees, so she could look him in the eye.

"You are very talented, Pookie, " she said with a wink. "Before the outbreak, and fall of civilization, being a skilled  
woodsman wasn't more than a hobby. Now it's a means of survival. You're very talented at it. Those people are not used  
to that, they're still a little city-soft from living in Woodbury. And you are definitely good at more than just shooting.  
You need to learn to take compliments, and accept them."

Daryl chewed his lip, and aimed his eyes at his biscuits and gravy. "Psh, whatever."  
She gave him a while to move past his insecure moment, and finish his meal. Then she watched as he licked the grease off  
each of his fingers. A part of her always thought how dirty and disgusting it was when he did that...but another, darker part  
allowed it to make her breath catch and her heart beat a bit faster. She loved his hands. Rough-hewn and calloused as they  
were, they were as nimble as they appeared. In another life, they could have belonged to a sculptor.

She knew he appreciated when she could just sit with him in comfortable silence. Being a man of few words, and often unsure  
of the ones he did let fly, the quiet made him feel safe. After he had set his plate on the floor, and folded his hands between  
his knees contentedly, she decided it was time to speak.  
"Daryl. Can I talk to you about something that may make you...uncomfortable?" He frowned, but tilted his head to one side,  
quizzically. "Say your piece," he grunted.

She let out an audible breath she hadnt realized she'd been holding. "OK, here goes.  
I realize I could be completely off on my assumptions, but I'm pretty sure I have some idea what your upbringing  
was like." He cast his eyes to a newly fascinating crack in the wall to his right. "I know your parents and Merle done you  
very wrong. I also know that a lot of folks in our part of the country tend to teach boys never to show emotion other than  
apathy or anger. That they're taught it shows weakness. And that other boys raised that way can be cruel to any who slip  
up and, say, cry." Daryl finally looked her in the eye, but he couldn't keep his hands or knees still. She leaned a tiny  
bit closer to him. "Honey, you need to know. You are worthy of being complimented. You are something- someone special.  
And, much as it terrifies you, I know...you are worthy of love." He dropped his gaze to his hands again. Carol silently,  
tentatively placed her small, pale, chore-worn hands on top of his. Almost immediately, he rolled his hands palm up,  
cradling hers there, and gently rubbing his thumbs across her wrist bones. This much touching and the fact that he was  
quite relaxed about it, amazed her. She had to train her breathing, keep herself calm, so as not to spook him into  
clamming up.

"Sometimes, " he rasped. "When it's just me 'n you...It feels like this is the only life either of us ever lived." His  
voice was soft, low, just a touch of the rumble that made Carol's hair stand on end and her toes curl in her combat boots.  
"Like the people that done broke us, and tore us down before, never even existed." He lifted his head, but angled it so only  
one blue-green eye peered at her.

"Can-" Carol started to speak, but her voice came out a croak, and she had to clear her throat before starting again.  
"Can I...touch your face? Would that be ok?" His answer came out as a fast, breathy whisper, almost a growl, his eyes  
closing quickly. "Yes."

Not wanting to lose his hands, she kept her right one between his and raised her left, even more gently and carefully than  
before, to his cheek. She cupped the side of his face, and he sucked in air through his mouth, and pushed it hard out of  
his nose. Then he leaned into her hand.  
They stayed that way for a long while, and carol was afraid the usual hustle and bustle of the now-populated prison would  
steal this moment from them. Daryl opened his eyes, and brought his left hand up, almost closed, to stop a few inches from  
her cheek. She could see him struggling within himself, so she slid her fingertips up his wrist to the heel of his hand,  
pausing for him to relax and finish outstretching his fingers, then put her face into his palm herself. For a moment, she  
felt her eyes roll back into her skull. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched her this way. Her daughter  
had probably been the last.

She opened her eyes and gazed into his for a moment or two.

And then a cell door creaked and slammed somewhere down the hall, and the spell was broken. Daryl was instantly on his feet  
facing out the door, stretching his arms behind his head, muttering something about checking fences, and then he was gone.

She was left with her face and heart feeling warm.

"I love you, Daryl, " she whispered into the air.

Carol knew this hadn't drastically changed the whole dynamic of their friendship. It would take him a lot longer to  
be able to touch more than they had, or even touch that same way again anytime soon. Sometimes Daryl was more like a wild  
hors than an average man, and it was futile to try to force him to accept more than he felt safe with.  
Carol felt like that tiny broken barrier was intimate enough to last her years. She could wait. It was so worth it.


	2. Little Stolen Moments Chapter 2

2

It was weeks before Daryl was ready to steal a bit of peace with Carol again. He had of course, sought her for refuge  
and council, and their usual joking and playful teasing had fallen right back into place. But no more moments like the day  
when she'd...  
He had a hard time admitting even to himself what her small hands had done to him, to his heart, that day. It scared the crap  
out of him, but it also held him transfixed in fascinated curiosity. He'd known a long time that he loved her...that he  
wanted her. But Carol was a fine woman. The kind who ought to have a smart, educated husband, a big clean house in a  
landscaped subdivision. With a Prius apiece and a golden retriever in the back yard.  
Of course, those things were unattainable now that the world had gone to pot. That didn't change his view of her. She at  
least deserved a man who could tell her he loved her, and touch her without his hands trembling... And had the sense to  
wash his damn hair every day.  
But none of that seemed to matter to her, and ever since he'd found her down in the tombs, they'd been thick as thieves.  
Sure they'd been close before that, they'd shared pain and loss, and taught each other a thing or two about life and survival.  
But when he'd thought he'd lost her forever...that's when he knew he couldn't be happy without her.  
Leaving with Merle had been stupid, and he'd known it would hurt her. But at the time, his sense of loyalty to blood first  
clouded his thinking, and it had been a big mistake.

So, for an excuse to be near her more, he'd elected to share her chores for one entire day, hanging laundry on the  
clothes lines, washing all the damn dishes, preparing meals, and watching over the little ones. Work was work, and if any of  
the other men had thought he'd gone soft and turned female, he was fully prepared to kick their asses. He didn't care what they  
thought, anyway. He'd just had an overwhelming need to be near her. She turned him into a damn lost puppy, but he couldn't  
care less, he couldn't help it.  
All this he'd done in return for having Beth, Maggie, Karen, and a few of the others trade chores with Carol for the following  
day, so she would be completely free for the day. They'd worked it out in secret, so Carol had no idea she didn't have to  
work in the morning.  
He always woke before the sun, so he showered, dressed, and grabbed a few apples, half a loaf of fresh bread, some deer  
jerky, and a gallon of water from the kitchen, and packed them on his bike. Then as the first pink painted the horizon, he went  
back inside. Standing beside her sleeping form, he reached out, stopped, then pushed himself to follow through, and ran his fingers  
through Carol's silvery curls. She made small noises, still out, and wiggled under her blanket. He cleared his throat and tried  
again, this time clipping the cartilage of her ear as he did, and letting his hand trail down her graceful neck, to her shoulder.  
He pushed it gently, and half whispered, "Carol. Hey. Wake up, girl, come on." Her eyes fluttered open as she struggled awake, then  
she held perfectly still at the realization of his hand on her. He thought maybe he'd overstepped after all, and hid his  
hands in his pockets.  
"Get up, girl. I got you a free day, no chores for Cinderella. I'm taking you for a ride."  
"Huh? Do what now? And, Pookie, I am past forty, practically ancient, ain't much girl left in me anymore."

She was sitting up now, dragging her boots on, having slept in a clean sweater and pants from the washing they'd done together.  
She always showered before bed. He'd heard her grumble about feeling too dirty to sleep, on more than one occasion.  
He smiled at her description of herself. "Y'ain't but a minute or two ahead of me, woman, and I ain't dead yet. Don't go  
gettin' old on me till you start gettin' all wrinkly." She laughed as she stretched and yawned, her body inches from his.  
He was achingly aware of how badly he wanted to kiss her, her fresh scent in his nose. If he could just tell his damn body  
to nut up and grab ahold of her. Instead, he picked up her bag and jacket, and asked if she was ready to go. She nodded through a  
huge yawn, so he grabbed her hand before he'd thought it through, and they were out the front doors and on the Triumph before he'd  
even realized it. That made him smile.  
She had hooked her thumbs in his belt loops to keep from losing her grip, and he thought from the way her head lolled against his  
shoulder she was probably asleep again. Maybe he should have just let her rest today. But if he knew her as well as he figured,  
she'd be up and doing some sort of laborous task even on her day off. The woman didn't know the meaning of rest.  
And no one, except maybe Hershel or Beth, deserved their fair share of rest more than Carol.  
He drove her to a park with a high fence around it, something like a country club or whatever. He had cleared out the handful  
of walkers that had been shamblinng in circles inside it, two days previous. He would have rather taken her into a wooded  
area, but he couldn't be sure there'd be no life-threatening interruptions, so this would do.  
When he climbed off the bike, she stretched and popped a few joints, before unfolding the rough old Indian blanket she'd had the  
foresight to bring along. They each took an end, and stretched it out on the ground, then set about unpacking their meal.  
They talked about this and that, the kids under her care, what a fine young man Carl Grimes seemed to be growing into, how the old  
prison was feeling like a comfortable community now, and how normal it was starting to feel. He told her a couple of the teenage girls  
had asked him if he and Beth were an item, and his nostrils flared as he growled out, "Old enough to be her damn daddy. That shit just  
ain't right. No idea where such a foolish notion sprung from." His indignance made her laugh. In the days before the walkers, the media  
had certainly tried to encourage viewers to accept it as common and quite normal for middle aged men to chase after much younger women.  
Apparently no one had fooled Daryl into believing it. The way he talked, to him, Beth wasn't but a few years older than little Judith, who  
she was practically raising.  
Before she knew what she was doing, Carol was patting Daryl's upper thigh reassuringly. He was already looking at her hand when she  
withdrew it, feeling like she'd done something much worse. She was utterly floored when she felt Daryl's warm hand wrap around hers.

"It's OK. You didn't do anything bad. I know it ain't right for me to be how I am about bein' touched. It ain't your fault I'm wrong.  
I'm tryin'...tryin' to be better. To get better," he swallowed hard. "for you," he finished. He could no longer hold her  
gaze, but he hadn't let go of her hand.  
She let their joined hands rest on his leg, and said, "You're not wrong. Nothing wrong about you. It's not your fault shit happened  
to make you the way you are, either. Just like I didn't do nothing wrong to make Ed treat me like he did. Because of you, and the rest of  
our little survivor family, I was able to move past my bad memories and hang ups, and can be strong and stand on my own now. I'm so glad  
you're working through doing the same. You really are a wonderful man, Daryl."

He surprised her again, by bringing his free hand up and caressing her cheek, briefly, while studying her face.  
"Shoulda told you a long time ago, Carol. But...you are the most beautiful woman I've ever known." He withdrew his hands and cleared his  
throat. Her own hand was at her throat, now, where all her breath and words seemed to be trapped or hiding.

"I'm...I'm not..." she stammered. He quipped, If I have to start accepting compliments, then damn, woman, so do you."  
She smiled. "You said you should have said it a long time ago. What's been stopping you?" She asked gently.  
He paused and chewed his nail. "The way I see it, you're a finer person than I could ever hope to be. A lot finer. Educated. High class.  
It's like...if we were animals, you'd be a mourning dove. Small, quiet, gentle. I'd be an ol' dirty black crow, with only enough sense to keep  
itself fed." He was staring off into the horizon.  
Carol touched his shoulder. When he met her eyes she responded. "If you're a crow, I want to be a crow, too. 'Sides, they're supposed to be  
really intelligent. I watched a documentary on Discovery Channel, once, 'bout how they're up there with dolphins as one of the smartest creatures  
on this planet."  
Daryl kept chewing his nail, and stared at her chin. She thought her hair would turn snow white from the shock, when he kissed her. It was brief,  
chaste, but she couldn't have ever asked for better. And then he was standing up, clearing away the leftovers, the dishes. She folded the blanket  
with a dreamy smile. Then she askde if he would mind if they stopped somewhere to plant the apple cores, like Johnny Appleseed, so there'd be an  
orchard someday for future generations to eat from, if living breathing humans continued to survive and reproduce that long. He nodded his silent  
approval, and when they were finished, they rode back home to the prison, each with a secret smile splitting their faces.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Carol spent the next few days humming and smiling through her chores. The other women who had conspired with Daryl to give her the day off before, grinned and nudged each other as she passed by, gigging softly behind their hands. Beth and Maggie finally cornered her on the third day, when they were alone in the prison kitchen, gathering dry goods and dishes to prepare dinner for the community.

"So, what did y'all two get up to on your excursion, the other day?" Maggie was sitting on the counter peeling potatoes next to where Carol was rinsing rice, a lilt of curious amusement in her voice and expression.

Carol gasped, but a tiny smile belied her astonishment. "None of your business, Miss Nosey!"  
Beth made a little click with her tongue and sighed.  
"Aw, please, Carol, we are DYING to know. Give us something to get us through all these damn chores. You know nothing interesting ever happens except the occasional breach in the fence."

"You two need to stick to romance novels, " Carol chided. "And leave well enough alone." Her stern expression didn't make it to her eyes, which were gleaming happily. "Besides, if I had something to tell, I wouldn't tell Maggie, " She said, punctuating her declaration with a poke to the elder Greene's leg.  
"Her husband is the biggest gossip in the house!"

Maggie and Beth shared a look, and the former gushed giddily, "So something DID happen! Tellustellustellus! Pleeeeease, Carol? Did you kiss? Did he touch your boob?" They were all laughing, by this time. Carol held up her palms in surrender.

"Alright, alright! No, he didn't touch my boob, Maggie, " She sighed, looked at the floor, then raised just her eyes to look at them both. Her voice low and soft, a breath above a whisper, she finished, "But  
he did kiss me." She bit her lip and turned back to her task.

The two sisters clapped their hands and jumped up and down like middle schoolers. Beth was the first to break the silence, then. "So, have y'all kissed since then?" The older woman shook her head 'no'. "D'ya think he's waiting for you to make the next move?" Carol's back straightened and she stared off into an unseen distance. "You know what? I hadn't thought of that. I'm not the same woman I once was, I can go after what I want, now. Screw fear. He's clearly not going to reject me, " She was more talking to herself than the other two women, and had all but forgotten they were even there. "He all but told me he's been in love with me all this time. What am I waiting for?" She snapped back to reality, looked at her hands swirling dry rice in cloudy water. Her head popped back up and turned to look at Maggie, an unspoken question in her eyes and body language.  
Maggie nodded, her chin set. "Hell yes, I'll take over. Go get your man! Go get ya some!"

Carol quickly dried her hands on a towel and headed out the kitchen doorway, first at a brisk walk, then suddenly breaking into a sprint. Rick and Tyreese were standing in the hall, talking, and looked up as she passed. "Where ya headed, Carol?" Rick called.  
"Looking for Daryl! Seen him lately?" she queried over her shoulder.  
"He's restocking the infirmary. Anything I need to worry about?"  
"Nope, I just need to talk to him, " She stopped and half turned towards the two men. "Hey, could you do me a favor, and make sure no one comes down there for a while? An hour, maybe two? Got something important to discuss."  
Rick kept his expression business like, "Sure, honey, no problem." When she turned away and resumed her jog, he gave Tyreese a grin that spoke volumes.

Fifty to a hundred yards from her destination, Carol decided not to run anymore, but creep quietly, so as not to ruin the surprise of her arrival. As she approached the doors, she peeked in the small windows, to make sure Daryl was alone. This would be very awkward if they had company. There didn't appear to be any one else in the room, and Daryl was hunched over a table, organizing gauze, meds, and other usable items into their respective containers. She had hoped his back would be to the doors, but of course Daryl being Daryl, he wouldn't want to bare his back to a surprise attack. So, shifting gears, she straightened, collected herself, and strode in casually. "Daryl," she spoke in a soft tone, hoping to sound a little sultry. He looked up and smirked. "Hey, Carol. Is dinner ready, already?" She tripped a little, at this, 'Does he think that's the only reason I'd come to see him?' she wondered. 'No, I'm doing this.' she regained her confidence and stalked toward her prey a little faster.  
"No, honey. That's not why I'm here." He had resumed his work, but at her response, he looked up slowly, his lips a small 'o', and a question on his face. She smiled, hoping to look fierce and sexy. She rounded the table and he turned sideways to face her. Instead of stopping a few feet away, as per their usual, she stepped all the way into his space, making him drop whatever he had been holding. Carol ran her hands up his arms slowly, and watched as he followed their path with his gaze. She let her palms rest on either side of his neck, her fingers curling in his hair, a little bit. He peered into her eyes, and heat had begun to radiate off him. Then she was kissing him, before he could utter a syllable. And just like she thought, he didn't push her away. He just made a soft whimper of submission, and wrapped her fiercly in his embrace.

After a few minutes which had stretched on like days, they released the kiss and just held each other. Carol spoke first, Daryl being shocked into dumbfoundedness. "It's just...I just realized, we really aren't promised tomorrow. Hell, we're not even promised the next 10 minutes. I couldn't wait for you to take the helm anymore. I realized, there really wasn't any reason I shouldn't be the one to start this, " She looked up into his strong face. "Is that ok? Am I pushing you too far?" He pushed air through his nostrils audibly and placed his hands on her shoulders.  
"Woman...no. You ain't pushed me at all. I've been trying to work up the balls to do this, myself. It ain't that I'm scared, I ain't scared of nothin', save losing you again. No, it's just...well, like you said, I was taught not to show feelings. And any time I started likin' a girl, well... Merle'd either tease the shit out of me till I lost my nerve, or go take off with her himself. I know he ain't here to do that anymore. But his voice, and my daddy's voice are always in the back of my mind, tellin' me I ain't shit. That ain't nobody gonna wanna be with a pussy like me. Sorry, maybe I shouldn't of told ya all of that." He dropped his hands and picked up the sack of supplies he had dropped.  
Carol placed her hand right on his hip bone, and he turned back to look at her. "Me, too, " she whispered.  
"I still hear Ed, sometimes. 'You're so stupid, Carol.' 'How could you think anyone would want you.' 'You can't do anything right.' You know what I do, now? When I hear him telling me I can't, I'm not, I don't deserve...I tell him, 'Yes I fucking can, you asshole. You're dead. You can't touch me anymore. I am enough. I am strong. I am quick. I can protect myself, I can provide. I don't fucking need you anymore, and I am better off without you.' And then I see the faces of all the kids here, that I take care of. I see Beth and Maggie, and Glen, and Hershel, and I see you. I always see you. You're what I dream, Daryl, what I want more than anything else I have ever wanted, besides my girl. I can't go on just seeing you and not knowing I can hold you. I won't spend another day living beside you without being *with* you."

At this, Daryl bundled her into his arms, kissing her with all his might. She slid her hands inside the collar of his shirt, needing to feel his skin. Having the same need, Daryl slid his hands under the back of her shirt, pressing her form tightly against his hard chest. Carol broke the kiss and began trailing her lips and tongue along his jaw, to his ear, where she started nibbling and sucking at his earlobe. He felt his knees weaken, and his breath catch. "There's a cot in the corner, " He growled softly. He felt her smile against his neck.


End file.
